Chapter Eighteen
Heathcliff felt a shiver of foreboding filter through him as he greeted his friend. Lady Liliah gave him a sweet smile, and then slid her gaze to her husband when he gestured to a seat before Heathcliff’s desk.
“I suppose this isn’t strictly a social call because you’re not seeking the company of your sister?” Heathcliff asked dryly, ambling toward his desk, not in any hurry to discuss the issue that certainly was about to be brought forth.
Lucas took a seat, leaning back in a most relaxed manner.
Damn, how the tables had turned.
Usually, it would be Heathcliff reclining, unhurried and unaffected by whatever scheme or mishap had ruffled Lucas’s feathers. Heathcliff didn’t appreciate the reversal of roles, and he adjusted his oddly tight cravat as he took a seat. Did he appear as guilty as he felt?
Folding his hands on his desk, he awaited their leisure.
“My wife and I have come to an important conclusion,” Lucas started, giving a causal flick of his wrist.
“It appears quite grave,” Heathcliff couldn’t help but remark.
Lucas chuckled. “I suppose that would depend on how one feels about the subject matter,” he replied cryptically.
“What I think my husband is trying to say, “ Lady Liliah gave Lucas an amused glare, “is that we learned something that brought us to a conclusion, one that requires your assistance.”
“I’m utterly at your disposal, Lady Heightfield.” Heathcliff grinned, enjoying the irritated glare of his friend.
“Watch it,” Lucas bit out, but he was grinning.
It was Heathcliff’s turn to wave a dismissive hand. He was feeling more comfortable. If they merely needed his assistance, perhaps all his guilt, all his foreboding was for naught.
“We received word from London. I have Ramsey watching the Duke of Chatterwood. Ramsey indicated the duke has been alluding to his daughter, Miranda’s, return from America,” Lucas spoke meaningfully.
Heathcliff frowned. “Why would he say such a thing? He hasn’t a clue where she is.”
“That, my friend, is the same question we began with. And while I don’t know the answer, I do know one thing.” He leaned forward in his chair, his demeanor and tone serious.
The foreboding and tension returned to Heathcliff tenfold.
“It simply reinforces the truth that Miss Miranda is going to be at risk until she is safely married.”
Heathcliff stared at him, his mind churning with implications and realizations that confused him further. But he saw the merit in the idea, saw the truth of such a statement.
“This is where we need your assistance,” Lady Liliah chimed in.
Heathcliff felt the air leave his lungs. Surely they didn’t mean forhimto marry her? Would they ask such a thing?
He glanced at Lucas.
Yes, yes, he would.
“Don’t have a heart spasm, old man. We don’t mean for you to marry her.” Lucas rolled his eyes.
Perhaps Lucas wouldnotask that of him.
A sharp disappointment flooded through him, followed by a slightly offended twinge to his pride.
Did Lucas find him wanting in some way?
As soon as the thought skittered across his mind, Heathcliff almost laughed at the truth of such an errant idea.
Of course he was wanting in some way, in practically every way! It was foolish to even consider.
